


an aggressive woman likes to be on top

by sultrygoblin



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Face Slapping, Orgasm Denial, Quickies, Smut, dennis falls at the alter of the vagina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24751249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultrygoblin/pseuds/sultrygoblin
Summary: one shot - what have you got to fight? what do you need to prove? you're always telling lies, and that's the only truth. i don't care. baby, i'm not scared.
Relationships: Dennis Reynolds/Reader
Kudos: 19





	an aggressive woman likes to be on top

**Author's Note:**

> um...thank you to big mouth for the title and pet shop boys for the summary...have whatever this is...is it trash? probably. but aren’t we all trash pandas in the always sunny fandom...?

You are his anti-thesis. The Bizarro to his Superman or as you had said, the Powergirl to his Supergirl. Which felt like an insult he still hadn't managed to figure out if only to take away the satisfaction. And also because you were never around. Were being the operative word. It's not like anyone had expected you to come back, the few times you had were only for 'dumb family shit' as you had called it. The most recent being Charlie's intervention where your drunken joke had not gone over well. No matter how hilarious you had tried to keep insisting it was. And that was it. Plain Jane, Charlie Kelly's little sister was gone. Almost as if you had never really existed. In fact, Dennis can't remember the last time you were even brought up in conversation. Indeed, they don't have many memories with you, being a few grades below them and in a different scene. He wasn't at all surprised to see you hadn't shed the stoner part of your personality in the years you'd been gone but he is overwhelmed to see how you've grown. As he had put it after you'd walked up to the bar. Charlie laughs at him, dragging everyone in before he can get any reaction from you except for a demand for a drink if you're going to put up with this shit.

Because you know all his tricks. You had been there while he perfected his system, laughing the whole way. He couldn't control you the way he did Dee, you hadn't spent your whole life under his thumb. In fact, when it came to self-confidence you swung in the complete opposite direction. Even back then it was well earned. It honestly made him a little sick to think about. If only because you're a Kelly and it's something close to a feeling that you incite in him. He needs to inflict his dominance over you, which you have turned into many a phallic joke he has not appreciated no matter how cleverly worded they are. Sex hasn’t worked, intelligence hasn’t worked, and the Taco Tuesday featuring Tequila you had held proved he couldn’t fight his way to the top either. He’s got a scar of your teeth on his shoulder that reminds him quite regularly. It’s not the only thing it does but it’s the only one he’s ready to admit. 

And then you needed a place to stay. He has no problem swooping in, the knight in shining armor. It wasn’t an angle he had tried. To be fair, it hadn’t become available until the moment you came walking into Paddy’s with sopping luggage looking like a very angry, drowned rat. He can see the family resemblance in that moment and that moment only. The pipes have burst, it’ll take a few weeks to fix and you need a place to stay. You shut down Charlie before he even tries, Dee barely gets her mouth open when he’s cutting in and offering his room. He’s more than happy to take the couch. You call him out while Mac complains but with a firm shout of  _ silence _ . It seemed everything had been decided. Unfortunately, you know him far too well. 

Aside from drying out your clothes, the first day you spent in the apartment was sniffing out every camera, trick, and questionable lock. He had to admit he was impressed. You’d managed to piece together where almost all of them were simply from mapping everyone else’s knowledge. The few you managed to miss would in no way offer him any sort of enjoyment and he’d removed them himself. If only to present the facade of a gentleman. You know better and say so.

“I give up!” he shouts, throwing his hands in the air, “Whatever this is you win, alright?” watching you cross your arms and smirk, “It’s just not worth it.”

“What’s not?” you shoot back with a jut of your chin, it’s far too casual and it ramps him up.

There’s no way you  _ don’t  _ know what you’re doing. That’s what he should say. But he can’t articulate the right words. He bits his lip, biting back a familiar roar that will do nothing but make her snicker and shaking his head. Fists clenched, hoping his face doesn’t start to turn red because it’s really not an attractive look but he only has so much control right now. He  _ hates  _ it. 

“Say it. Just say it, Dennis, you’ll feel so much better,” and you don’t stop. 

You’ve learned from the best. Over and Over, your voice never wavering in its tone. As if you really are just looking out for him and he can’t tell if you are or not. Just that somehow you’ve won whatever and he’s  _ still  _ losing. Maybe that’s why he had been more than happy to pretend like you didn’t exist once you’d seemingly fell off the edge of the Earth. He could forget there was one girl out there who could see right through his bullshit, who he couldn’t control. Or intimidate. Or plan for. A goddamn anomaly in his carefully made formulas. 

“Do you want to have sex with me or not?” he’s got a thousand different questions for himself about why those are the words that fall out of his mouth. Especially because he wasn’t thinking them. Was he?

But for once you actually seem surprised, mouth opening and closing a few times as you crossed and uncrossed your arms, “What kind of question is that?” but there’s no conviction.

“It’s the only answer I can think of for whatever...well, everything you do to me is,” he’s shouting but it’s the first time they’ve ever communicated like actual people so he’s got no plan to stop, “It’s not even like you’re jealous. It’s like watching me be miserable gets you off!”

“Thank god! You finally get it!” it shouldn’t surprise him that his melodrama is fact when it comes to you but it still does and he parrots your gestures from just a few seconds ago back at you, “Oh! You meant-”

“ _ Are you serious?”  _ you nodded slowly, somewhere between embarrassed and annoyed, “So this whole time all I had to do was late you humiliate me and you would’ve...?” waggling his eyebrows.

“Um...yeah,” nodding slowly and dropping your arms, drumming your fingers against your denim-clad thighs, “But you’ve made it very clear that’s not your thing so-”

“Well, wait, wait, wait,” holding up his hand to both your surprise, “You don’t know that.”

You couldn’t help the way you scoff morphed in a laugh, “You’re one dead hooker away, my friend.”

“That is not what this is about,” it’s so him to immediately calm down and put you on edge, his interest more akin to claws on a chalkboard than flirting, “What happened? You look the exact opposite of into me.”

“Well now you’re all confident and,” you waved at him with your hand, “Ugh,” and shaking your head, “I’m gonna take a shower.”

Which only infuriated him again. It was only after the door had closed and he had been left with his thoughts he realized that also had to be part of it. Everything about him that he’s used to drawing women in since he’d begun his sexual adventures is everything you hate. You like him low, angry, frustrated. It’s not that surprising but it does bring with it something he hadn’t thought of. He kind of liked it. At least now that he knew what it was.

How calm you had been when he was prepared to explode into a thousand pieces. What if you had tried then? What would he have done? Obviously, he would have let you.  _ He  _ would have let  _ you _ . It’s completely new, he wouldn’t even know how something like that would go. But he’s very into the idea of finding out. Which means being pathetic. Not annoyingly so. He tries to analyze it, overthinking it. Until he’s frustrated and pacing his room when she walks back in with an over-sized t-shirt that must’ve once been Charlie’s given the holes. And all the newly cleaned skin they bring into view. Something that leaves him breathless for its own set of reasons. 

“I feel like we’re at an impasse. I think-” She rolled her eyes, “The hell was that?”

“You’re  _ thinking _ ,” tapping your temple lightly with the most condescending smile that should not make his jeans tight but does, “Either don’t think or fight me. Otherwise, and I mean this exactly as it sounds without question, what  _ exactly  _ is the point?” pressing your palms together and using them to point at him, “Do you have a question?”

“Do you have to be a bitch every second?” undoing the buttons of his shirt as he watched you move towards the bed, “It’s not attractive.”

“Because I’m going to take advice from Buffalo Bill,” lifting your leg and planting it firmly on the bed, giving him a far too tantalizing view of your backside before it disappeared when your other leg rose.

Button up dropped followed quickly by his t-shirt, “Well, that’s just not even accurate,”  _ and pants _ .

“The skins are an inevitability, my friend,” grounding your feet in a position that made him worry.

As it should because you dove off the bed and onto him, crumpling him to the ground as you attacked his mouth. His hands made an attempt to grab you...somewhere but it isn’t hard to get your hands around his wrists and slam them to the floor. He winces, which is a perfect opening for your tongue to slip past his lips. It’s clearly not what he expects, bucking up against you. That only presses him against your dampening core in a delicious way that makes you moan without thinking. You pulled away with a wet smack, looking down at him. He hadn’t seemed to notice. No. Just laying there waiting for the next thing to happen. 

You could work with that, “Don’t move or I’ll slap you.”

Of course, he had to push. That was the point after all. You’d barely let go of his wrist when he’d tried to dart his for a grip on your hair. Which earned him a firm warning slap to the cheek that he also didn’t seem to expect.

“You  _ actually  _ hit me,” eyes wide and tone not quite sure how he felt about it.

You shrugged, reaching between the two of you with the now free hand, “I warned you,” hooking your thumb in the front of his briefs and yanking them down precisely as far as they needed to be, “Would you like to try again?”

He shook his head and you smiled as you sank down on him. Returning your grip to his wrist. Your knees ache against the floor, even more so when you begin a steady rhythm up and down. It’s the first time in your life you’ve ever managed to remain quiet, if only to prove a point. After today,  _ maybe,  _ but right now your silence is paramount. He has to hear himself, you have won for the final time and he likes it. Which is slowly dawning on his face and that smile of yours twists into a smirk when you roll your hips and feel your orgasm rip through you.

All he sees is a shudder and feels you clench around him, “What the hell are you?”

You laugh, grind your hips into his. Watching the way his face begins to turn pink, sweat breaks across his forehead, it’s enough to set you off again. This time you have to bite your lip, so glad he’s distracted with his fast-approaching orgasm. He doesn’t hear the whine that catches in your throat and it delays his senses. You’ve come down from your high, he’s so close, you press the balls of your feet into the ground and roll on them hopping to your feet quickly.

It takes him about thirty seconds to realize what’s happening. By that point, you’ve slipped on his jeans and are making your way towards the front door. He’s broken. Ragged. Unable to catch his breath. And he can’t ask the obvious question in the air with his sense overloaded, just gesturing wildly at you with his erection bobbing in the air. You slipped on your shoes, trying to work unexpectedly tight around the thigh pants into a comfortable position.

“I didn’t bring a bag, dude,” you laughed, gripping the doorknob in your hand, “I came to win and I did.  _ Literally _ ,” giggling to yourself as you made your way out the door and into the hall.

He stared at the door, brows now knitted in confusion, “No, can’t be,” shaking his head and turning back towards his bedroom.

Trying not to consider that he might’ve actually had a feeling.


End file.
